


The Stars Above the Path

by K5C8



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Geraskier, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Nightmares, Pining, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, geralt cries, geralt is sorry, geralt pining, implied PTSD, no beta we die like calanthe, post season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26119951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K5C8/pseuds/K5C8
Summary: Tagged implied PTSD because of Ciri's nightmares.Geralt sings to Ciri to sooth her after nightmares, while also pining for Jaskier. It just hurts, but its also sweet.The idea of this came form a prompt from a Tumblr follower who asked for "Geralt sings" and here it is!Feel free to comment if you liked <3Thank you for reading :)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 117





	The Stars Above the Path

Geralt was exhausted. They had been on the road for weeks now, only stopping for food and sleep when he could tell that Ciri wouldn't be able to continue on without rest. The journey to Kaer Morhen was proving rough for the young princess, and Geralt was doing everything he possibly could to make it easier for her. She seemed to be taking everything in stride; keeping most complaints to herself, going for rest when prompted, and only rarely asking the question, “are we there yet?”

And then the nightmares came.

It only made sense that her mind would catch up with her once she felt safe with Geralt. Ciri tried her best to keep quiet when she would wake from the nightmares, but sometimes the terrors of her mind would overcome her. She would eventually calm herself, humming an old Cintran tune and remembering the nights her grandmother would sing her to sleep.

Geralt, for the most part, would give her the space and peace she needed to soothe herself. He would occasionally ask if she needed anything and, on the nights when the soft crying lasted more than half an hour or so, he would quietly move his bedroll closer and pat her back until she fell asleep once more. Its nights like those when Geralt wishes they had a certain bard traveling with them to help ease Ciri’s mind. He was always infinitely better with people than Geralt, especially children.

Geralt tried not to let himself think too much on it. The guilt often weighed too heavy for him to bear. In the heat of his anger, he had pushed away the only person who had ever willingly stood by his side. Twenty-two years of companionship decimated, and it was entirely his own fault. He essentially blamed Jaskier for all that had gone catastrophically wrong in his life, and he knew it wasn't a fair accusation. He knew he had been _wrong._ Regret filled him to the very brim just moments after his outburst, but his stubborn pride had not allowed him to go after Jaskier and apologize.

He told himself he would wait for their paths to cross again, and then he would apologize. Geralt found that the Path without Jaskier was much quieter than he remembered. The silence was bearable when he knew they would meet again, but as time passed he was growing more and more uncertain whether the bard would seek him out again.

It wasn't long before Geralt’s stubbornness subsided and he considered tracking down the bard himself. And then he had seen Nilfgaard headed north. From that point on, Ciri was all Geralt could focus on; getting to her, keeping her safe, heading to Kaer Morhen, and trying as best he could to quell her fears that struck her the hardest at night, all while secretly hoping that Jaskier would stumble upon them along the way.

This night was particularly bad. It was the worst one yet. Ciri dreamt of it all. She dreamt of the sacking of Cintra, the raid on the Cintran camp, running from soldiers, the night the men attacked her. Flashes of her people dying, being killed both by Nilfgaardians and each other. She sees Lija crying out as her servant carves a dagger into her back. She thinks of the men, women, and children slain that night. She dreams of Dara facing the same fate. She dreams of doppelgängers and men and soldiers hunting her down. It was too much to bear all at once.

Her scream is so powerful that it shakes the ground they are camping on, startling Geralt awake. He jumps up from his bedroll, sword already in hand, ready to fight whatever threat is there. He turns to see Ciri on the ground, backed up against a tree, arms and legs flailing against non-present attackers.

“No! Stop- stop it-“ she screams between sobs. “Make it go away- make it STOP- GO AWAY!!!” Another chaos-charged scream leaving her lips.

Geralt slowly makes his way over to Ciri, arms out and palms facing the ground. “Ciri,” he begins gently, but loud enough for her to hear. “It’s me, it’s Geralt. I’m here, you’re safe.” This does little to stop the crying, but the flailing had ceased for the moment.

When he gets to her, she is nothing more than a crumpled heap of tears and hiccups on the forest floor. Not quite knowing what do do, he sits next to her and wraps one steady arm around her shoulders. She lets out a piercing sob and curls into his chest, allowing herself to be further enveloped in Geralt’s embrace.

They sit like that for a while. An hour, perhaps. Maybe longer.

“I am sorry, cub.” Geralt whispers to her. “You have seen many terrors. I should have come for you sooner.” She does not respond to this, but tightens the grip she has on his shoulders.

After her breathing has normalized, Ciri looks up into Geralt's eyes. “Will you sing to me?” She asks timidly. “My grandmother would sing to me when I had nightmares after my parents died,” she continued when she saw confusion in his eyes. “You once said you used to travel with a bard. Maybe you could sing me one of his songs,” she requested.

Geralt tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the mention of Jaskier. “His voice is much prettier than mine,” Geralt replied. “I’m not sure you’ll want to hear what comes from mine.”

Ciri just looked at him insistently.

Geralt let in a sharp breath and began to roughly hum the melody of a ballad Jaskier had often performed. Soon after, he sang the first few lines. “Your eyes are like the stars above the Path. Your mouth is like a cup of delight.”

Ciri settled into his chest and closed her eyes. “I would love to see you again,” he continued, “at least a shadow of my former love.”

He hummed the interlude while trying not to acknowledge the searing pain rippling across his insides. _Jaskier,_ he thought, _find us. I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please._

Ciri’s breath slowed as he began the second half, throat feeling tighter than before. “Because the heart knocks like a beggar, he wanders alone at the crossroads.” Geralt lifted his eyes to the sky and sang the last few lines as a single tear slipped down his cheek. “And every time I look at the sky, I feel that chill in your eyes again.”

Ciri was asleep by the time he had finished singing. He held her a few moments longer before carrying her back to her bedroll. She looked at peace as she turned over and dove deeper into sleep.

Geralt returned to his bedroll, feeling exhausted and emotionally spent. He slept, and dreamt of soft brown hair and cornflower blue eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The song I chose is a loose translation of one of Jaskier's ballads titled "Jak Gwiazdy Nad Traktem" from The Hexer. You can listen on youtube and Spotify
> 
> Translated Lyrics:
> 
> Your eyes are like the stars above the Path  
> Your mouth is like a cup of delight  
> I would love to see you again today  
> At least a shadow of my former love
> 
> Because the heart knocks like a beggar  
> He wanders alone at the crossroads  
> And every time I look at the sky  
> I feel that chill in your eyes again


End file.
